


I'm Weak

by Dirade



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Awkwardness, Coming Out, Confessions, Crying, Embarrassment, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Minor Injuries, Pining, Secret Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-19
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-07-14 06:31:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16034912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dirade/pseuds/Dirade
Summary: Request: Do you think you could make one where Mark gets flustered about random things that Ethan does that he didn't realize were attractive (for instance, when he grabs his neck, runs his hand trough his hair, backflips or something)?Teamiplier is doing the Bottle Flip Challenge with a few modifications. It doesn't go exactly as planned.





	I'm Weak

**Author's Note:**

> Wowow, guess who's alive? This was requested 74 days ago and I finished it last week. At least it's done...?  
> Anyway, thank you to Sam for requesting this, and I hope you enjoy it!

“Hey, Tyler, can you come over here for a second?” Mark beckons his friend over, doing his best to keep his tone casual. 

 

“What's up?” Tyler asks once he jogs over, leaving behind the others, who are working together, as a five person team, to assemble one (1) table. 

 

Mark shoots a glance over at everyone else, Amy, Kathryn, Wade, Bob, and Ethan, before gesturing towards the house. “I need your help to carry something.” 

 

Tyler raises an eyebrow, but follows Mark out of the backyard and into his house. “The great Markiplier needs  _ my _ help? Well, how can I refuse?” 

 

Mark rolls his eyes, shutting the door behind them and leading Tyler to the kitchen, where they can view the others, still struggling, through the window. “So,” Mark starts, staring outside and decidedly not at Tyler. “I have a… problem.” He turns back to Tyler as he finishes his statement, just in time to see Tyler glance down. “TYLER!” Mark screeches, angling himself away. “Not that kind of problem!” Then Mark hesitates, scrunching up his face. “Well, sort of that kind of problem… Just listen to me!” 

 

Tyler folds his hands and tilts his head, a expression of innocent intrigue on his face. 

 

Mark resists the urge to roll his eyes again. “So, y'know Ethan?” 

 

“Oh,” Tyler says, a little too casually. “You mean your blue boyfriend?” 

 

Mark crosses his arms. “See, that's the problem; he’s not my boyfriend.” 

 

“But you want him to be,” Tyler concludes. 

 

Mark nods miserably. 

 

In turn, Tyler nods sagely. “How bad is it?” 

 

“So bad, Tyler,” Mark whines, pulling at his hair. “Look at him!” 

 

“I'm looking,” Tyler says, staring out the window. 

 

Mark glances up, a frown pulling at his face. He hits Tyler lightly on the arm. “Okay, stop looking!” 

 

Tyler looks down at him with a smirk on his face. “You've got it bad,” he confirms. 

 

Mark just nods again. 

  
  


When Ethan comes bouncing into the house Mark almost falls over himself in his attempt to distance himself from Tyler. His arms wave wildly before he manages to catch himself on the counter, staring up at Ethan with wide eyes and a haphazard lean. 

 

Ethan’s smile fades a bit as he looks Mark over. “Are you okay?” 

 

“Better now,” Tyler mumbles from behind Mark. 

 

“Yeah, yeah!” Mark pipes up, pushing himself to a fully upright position. “Yeah, I'm - I'm good, real good. All good here! No issues…” Mark finishes, nodding at Ethan in what he hopes is a casual and convincing kind of way. He adds a finger gun in for good measure. 

 

“Right,” Ethan deadpans. Then his face lights up again, the entire incident forgotten. “We got the table together! It won't hold anything over ten pounds, but it looks nice!” 

 

“Greeeaaaatt!” Mark says through an overly wide smile, teeth clamped shut. “Now, if you'll just excuse us for a moment, we’ll meet you guys outside in a second.” Mark gestures behind himself at Tyler. 

 

“Okay!” Ethan chirps, bumbling back outside. 

 

As soon as the door shuts, Mark spins around to face Tyler. “I hate you,” Mark states, crossing his arms. 

 

“Cool,” Tyler replies with a shrug, breezing past Mark to open the door. 

 

Mark follows, somewhat begrudgingly, and as Tyler walks into the yard, Mark hollers, “I mean it!” 

 

“I know!” Tyler yells back, throwing a wave over his shoulder. 

  
  


The table does not look nice. The legs are crooked, the top is slanted, and there are gaps in some places where there are definitely supposed to be screws. Admittedly, assembling a table was kind of a dumb idea in the first place, but the combination of destroying all their collapsible tables, Mark being too lazy to go out and buy a new one, and this near forgotten piece of labor being miraculously found in the garage, really left them with no other choice. Kind of. Mark probably could have sacrificed another table to the cause, but he’s starting to run out of furniture without stains on it. 

 

With all of his friends beaming expectantly at him, he can't exactly say no. “It looks great, guys!” Mark says, through an expression that could be a smile or a grimace. 

 

He's faced with six identical grins. 

  
  


They're doing another bottle flip challenge video, but this time with the added twist of interference. Basically, everyone who isn't flipping the water bottle can try to distract the flipper to damage their shot, as long as they don't physically touch the flipper or the water bottle. 

 

“We’ll go grab the stuff!” Amy pipes up, pushing a confused Kathryn in front of her. 

 

“Why would you volunteer us for that?” Mark hears Kat mumble as they pass. He shares a small smile with Amy, who winks at him in return. 

 

He and Amy have a special kind of relationship. Amy was the very first person he came out to. It was indescribably hard to get just those two words out, “I'm bisexual,” but as soon as he said it out loud, and as soon as Amy smiled at him the same way she always had, a great weight lifted from Mark's shoulders. They had the kind of long talk that everyone dreads: I care about you, I love you, just not like that. I'm not gay, you didn't make this happen, but I want to break up. 

 

And Amy, well, Amy was amazing. While Mark was a blubbering, teary, hiccuping mess, she just listened to what he had to say, holding his hand through the entire thing. And when he finally said all that he needed to say, she hugged him. And that just made Mark cry harder. 

 

But Amy got him a glass of water and a couple tissues and she told him exactly what he needed to hear: that it was alright, that nothing was wrong with him, that it was okay to feel however he felt, and that she would support him no matter what. 

 

It brought them closer, really. Now, Mark considers Amy to be one of his closest friends, and there is no longer the pretense of chemistry between them, the ever-growing promise for more that had become too heavy a burden for Mark to bear. Not to mention, although he hasn't told her, Mark has a sneaking suspicion that Amy knows about his unfortunate crush. 

 

“So,” Mark says with a clap of his hands, rocking back on his heels. “Any rules that we need to establish before hand?” 

 

“We should have a timer,” Tyler notes. “20 seconds, maybe? Before you have to throw the bottle.” 

 

Mark nods. “Sounds good.” He looks to the others. “Objections?” Everyone shakes their heads, and if Mark’s eyes linger on Ethan for a little longer than everyone else, well, that's between Mark and Tyler. 

 

Before anything else can be said, the girls have returned, carrying a few water bottles of varying capacities and a box of props. “Thank you,” the men chorus as Amy and Kat step behind the cameras, making sure everything is in place before they begin. 

 

The four of them rock paper scissors it out for the order in which they’ll play. Wade goes first, and Bob proceeds to shake the table, causing Wade’s, albeit poorly, thrown water bottle to tumble to the ground. After a short discussion about why moving the table is also prohibited, Wade lands his next shot, whooping in victory.

 

Bob is next, psyching himself up to throw as the others dance around him and the table. Bob misses his shot, and Mark misses seeing him take it because he's too distracted by Ethan’s dance moves, foolish and random, but charming in their confidence. 

 

Tyler is up now, stone-faced in the face of all in their attempts, even their coordinated can-can. He also misses, after his bottle spins a bit on its rim. 

 

Then it's Ethan. He bites his bottom lip as he gauges the shot, swinging the bottle as he prepares to throw it. Mark forgets what he's supposed to be doing, too caught up in watching the look of pure concentration on Ethan’s face, right up until Wade literally steps on him, tripping over Mark’s feet and making them both stumble backwards. By the time Mark has recovered his balance, he sees that Ethan has successfully landed his water bottle, throwing his hands in the air in an explosive burst of excitement. “Yes!” Ethan yells, and Mark is distracted yet again, cause that's just so much cuter than it has any right to be. 

 

Mark’s jolted out of his trance yet again, this time by Tyler clapping his shoulder and leaning close. “See something you like?” Mark turns around to shove him, but Tyler has already stepped back, hands in the air. “You're up, Romeo.” 

 

“Romeo my ass,” Mark grumbles as he walks behind the stick they've set up as a throwing line. 

 

“No thanks,” Tyler throws back, grabbing a plastic bowling pin from the ground, flipping and catching it like the stupid try-hard athlete that he is. 

 

Everyone gathers around as Mark gets into position, waving wildly as he calculates his shot. He's counting in his head - he should have plenty of time - and he's just about to toss his bottle when Ethan’s voice pipes up from off to his side. 

 

“Hey, Mark! Watch this!” 

 

Mark chances a glance over, which is his mistake, and watches as Ethan gears up to do a backflip before launching himself into the air, tucking his legs in before uncurling to land hard on his feet. Mark has always been so impressed when Ethan does that. The sheer physical competence is one thing, but the discipline and courage to literally toss one’s entire body blindly into the air has always struck a chord in Mark. It reminds Mark of Robin, one half of the dynamic duo, and he wonders if that makes him Batman, the older, more experienced, and also exhausted mentor type. 

 

The whole exchange takes only a couple seconds, but that’s a couple seconds too long, because Kat’s voice breaks through his musings when she exclaims, “Time!” 

 

“Fuck!” Mark shrieks, more for the camera than anything else, but out of the corner of his eyes he sees Ethan crack a smile. 

 

“Too easy…” Ethan says breezily as Mark goes to stand beside Tyler. 

 

“Hear that?” Tyler murmurs to Mark as Wade takes his next turn. “Ethan thinks you're easy.” 

 

“I was,” Mark hisses back, pirouetting as best he can, “ _ distracted! _ ” 

 

“Yeah,” Tyler continues, dipping Mark in a frankly death-defying dance move. “We can tell.” 

 

Somehow their shenanigans make Wade chuckle, but he still manages to throw his bottle, though his attempt is a poor one. 

 

Bob lands his shot and Mark almost faceplants trying to do a double heel click, and then it's Tyler’s turn already. 

 

Tyler ignores them - what's new, honestly - and Mark’s skin buzzes when Ethan brushes his arm in his mad sprint to do a front handspring. 

 

Then it's Ethan’s turn again, and like the total idiot that he is, Mark decides that his best course of action is to whip his shirt off, which is exactly what he does. He feels understandably stupid, but Ethan does falter mid-throw, and Mark likes to think that's the reason Ethan doesn't land his shot. 

 

And then they’re back to Mark, who manages to wrangle his shirt back on before he goes to stand behind the line. He looks to Kathryn for his cue to begin, and while he waits for her to reset the clock his gaze drifts over to Ethan, who’s standing off camera talking quietly with Amy. Mark can’t hear what they’re saying, but after another moment Ethan bounces back to the group and Amy heads back behind the camera. Mark watches her move, and when she turns to look at him he gives her a quizzical look. In turn, she just smiles innocently back at him. 

 

Before he can get too suspicious Kat is talking again. “All ready, Mark?” 

 

“Oh!” Mark exclaims eloquently, getting back into position. “Yeah!” 

 

Kat gives him a thumbs up to indicate time has started, and Mark concentrates on his task, resolving to keep his eyes on the prize this time. But… he does have 20 seconds and a small glance couldn’t hurt, right? He looks up at Ethan, who’s staring straight at him and running his hands through his own hair, his grip resting for a moment on his neck. 

 

Mark hates it when Ethan does that (he loves it). Ethan’s hair must really be bothering him, because he keeps messing with it, and he keeps staring at Mark, and it’s making Mark’s face go hot and all of a sudden Mark remembers that actually has to throw his water bottle, and he sees Kat looking at her phone out of the corner of his eye and so he doesn’t bother aiming, he doesn’t even tear his eyes away from Ethan, he just flips his water bottle into the air as hard as he can. 

 

And hits Ethan in the face. 

 

Ethan emits a high-pitched shriek as he crumples to the ground, hands flying to his face. 

 

“Fuck!” Mark shouts, scrambling over as fast as his feet will carry him. Distantly, he registers Bob and Wade hovering in the background while Tyler tells Kat and Amy to cut the video, but most of his attention is focused on Ethan, who’s still hunched over, face obscured. Mark falls to his knees beside him, hands hovering at Ethan’s shoulders. “Ethan? Fuck, Ethan, I’m so sorry, I swear I didn’t mean to do that. Are you okay? What hurts? Do you want an ice pack? A band-aid? A popsicle? I’m so fucking sorry, I just -” 

 

Ethan finally raises his head, putting a hand on Mark’s shoulder. Mark sees tears in his eyes, and something in his chest aches. When Ethan speaks, his voice is slightly muffled by the hand still covering the bottom half of his face. “‘M fine, s’just my nose… I think it’s bleeding.” 

 

Mark nods, trying to stay calm. “Okay, let’s get you inside so I can take a look at it, okay?” 

 

Ethan nods, grabbing Mark’s hand when he offers it, and Mark doesn’t even feel that familiar rush of butterflies he gets every time Ethan touches him because he fucking hurt Ethan. His crush, his  _ friend _ , is hurt because of something Mark did. He can’t breathe around the pain of it, but he can’t deal with that now, not when Ethan is cupping his hand under his nose to catch the first drops of blood. 

 

Once they get inside, Mark props Ethan up against the couch as he scrambles to get a box of tissues and a plastic bag. When he gets back Tyler is guiding Ethan to stop tilting his head back, saying something about the blood going into his throat. If it was anyone else touching Ethan like that, Mark would probably be bristling with jealousy, but guilt still gnaws at his bones and he’s almost tempted to leave Ethan with Tyler, who at least seems to know what he’s doing. 

 

But Tyler’s already spotted him, and gestures for Mark to come over. He grabs a tissue, handing it to Ethan, and then turns to Mark. “Just keep pressure on it, tilt his head forward, pinch the nose, and make sure he doesn’t swallow a lot of blood. And maybe apply some ice.” Tyler pats Mark’s shoulder. “Everyone else head back outside to help cleanup,” he says to the others. 

 

“You need all of us?” Bob asks. 

 

“Yep!” Amy replies brightly, ushering everyone back outside. 

 

Tyler heads into the other room, and before Mark even has time to ask Ethan how he’s feeling Tyler’s back with wipes and an ice pack. He hands them to Mark with a smile. “I’ll leave you to it,” he says as he walks out the door. 

 

Mark’s about to make a some snappy comeback, but then Ethan is speaking and everything else seems entirely unimportant. “Hand me a wipe, please.” 

 

Mark rushes to do as Ethan asks, putting the supplies on the couch before handing Ethan a wipe. He watches silently as Ethan wipes off his hands and upper lip, dropping the wipe into the plastic bag and grabbing another tissue to hold to his nose. 

 

Mark bites his lip, wishing there was something else he could do. Guilt bubbles in his stomach, sick and strong. 

 

“Mark,” Ethan says, meeting said man’s concerned gaze. “I can practically hear you beating yourself up from over here. I'm fine.” 

 

Mark cracks a concerned smile. “Are you sure? Does it hurt?” 

 

Ethan rolls his eyes. “Of course it hurts, doofus, but that doesn't mean I'm not fine.” Mark grimaces, and Ethan sighs. “Would you feel better if I let you look at it?” 

 

“Yeah,” Mark admits, nervousness squirming in his chest. 

 

Ethan turns toward Mark, angling his hand so his nose is easily visible. Mark leans forward, extending his hand. “Can I…?” When Ethan nods Mark lets his hand rest lightly on Ethan's cheek, holding him steady as Mark examines him. It looks a bit discolored, slightly pink from the impact, but there doesn't seem to be any bruising. Mark guides Ethan to turn his head so he can take a look at the side, trying to make sure it's not broken. 

 

“Hey, Mark?” Ethan asks, staring at Mark in his peripherals. 

 

Mark decides that, no, it's probably broken, and he lets Ethan turn to face him directly again as the younger man speaks. 

 

“Can I ask you something?” 

 

A tremor of anxiety ripples through Mark’s body, but he nods anyway. He also adjusts his hand, lightly running his thumb over the bridge of Ethan’s nose. Ethan flinches under his touch, and Mark's already apologizing and pulling away when Ethan grabs his wrist, keeping Mark’s hand in place. 

 

“It's fine, just a little tender,” Ethan explains. 

 

“Not broken?” Mark prompts. 

 

“Not broken,” Ethan echoes back. 

 

Mark puts his hand back on Ethan's cheek, giving his face a last once over. “What was your question?” 

 

Mark feel Ethan's jaw move as he swallows. “Well, you saw me talking to Amy, right?” 

 

“Yeah,” Mark confirms, watching Ethan discard his tissue and grab another, dabbing at his nose to get rid of the remaining blood before getting rid of that tissue as well. His nose isn't actively bleeding anymore, thank goodness, but when Mark goes to pull his hand away Ethan puts his hand over Mark’s, pressing Mark’s palm to his cheek. Mark’s heart skips a beat. 

 

“Well, she said I should mess with my hair. To distract you.” 

 

They're so close to each other, and Mark feels like Ethan's piercing gaze is peeling him apart layer by layer. 

 

“And at first I told her that it was a dumb idea,” Ethan continues, not taking his eyes off of Mark's. “I mean, why would you notice something that I did all the time? But she kept telling me to do it, just to try, so I did.” 

 

Mark is hyper aware of the warmth of Ethan's hand on his own, the heat of Ethan’s skin beneath his palm, and the flaming flush crawling over his own face. 

 

“And you fell for it,” Ethan finishes, his expression finally betraying emotion as his eyebrows draw together in confusion. “Why?” 

 

Mark swallows thickly, throat going tight. He opens his mouth but, for the first time in a long while, his words fail him. “I… I was just, uh, it was… distracting?” Mark offers at last, and now he does pull his hand away, though he doesn’t take a step back. 

 

Ethan lets him go, hand dropping to his side. “Is that all?” 

 

Mark wants to lie; almost everything in him tells him to deny the truth. But still he hears it, the faintest whisper of a thought, a thing that burns white with honesty. It asks him to speak, to say something real to the person he’s been hiding from for so long. Mark compromises. “No…” he murmurs. 

 

“Then why?” Ethan prompts, still quiet enough that Mark can barely hear him over the sound of his own pounding heart. 

 

Mark can’t look at him. He stares at Ethan’s shoulder, something like shame squirming in his chest. This is it, he knows it is, but he still can’t say it. “You know why…” he mumbles, heat crawling up his neck. 

 

“I need to hear you say it,” Ethan chokes out, the words fractured. 

 

Mark looks up in surprise, and is met with Ethan’s tense countenance, hazel eyes glittering with unshed tears. Everything in Mark aches. He wants so badly to fix this, to make Ethan stop having that horrible, broken expression. So he says it. “I… I  _ like  _ you.” And then it’s out there, hovering in the air as innocuously as an exhale. Mark’s insides twist. He can’t look at Ethan; instead he just stares at the floor, his own eyes starting to water. 

 

And then, to Mark’s absolute horror, Ethan lets out a heart-wrenching sob. Everything in Mark plummets to the planet’s molten core as Ethan turns away and presses a hand over his mouth, tears leaking from his eyes. Mark watches in cold terror and burning shame as Ethan’s face crumples, as he sobs into his palm. 

 

Mark’s own tears begin to fall, hot and sharp over his skin, and self-hatred rears strong and sick in his stomach. It claws at him, cuts him open, and he just lets his innards spill to the floor like some kind of unholy sacrifice. It hurts to see Ethan like this, pain like having his body sliced open and taken apart, pain like laying in a hospital bed waiting to die. But Mark wants to feel it. He wants the pain of it, he wants to suffer, because this is his fault, his dumb, stupid, uncontrollable mess of a self that got them here. Some part of him tells him that he deserves this. 

 

Ethan, though… Ethan doesn’t. This isn’t about what Mark wants, what Mark deserves. It’s about Ethan. So Mark gathers his guts back up and presses them back into his body, stitches himself shut with the barbed wire spilling from his lips, and gets back to work. 

 

“Ethan…” Mark goes to put a hand on Ethan’s shoulder, then thinks better of it. His hand falls to his side. “Ethan, I’m so sorry,” he says. All he can do is watch Ethan’s shaking profile, the one half of his face that Mark can see. “This - this doesn’t have to change anything. We can pretend this never -” 

 

“Would you lie to me?” Ethan chokes, voice muffled by his hand. 

 

This is Mark’s chance. He could say he didn’t mean anything by it, that it was a slip of the tongue, a misinterpretation, a joke, a lie. But he doesn’t want to lie. 

 

“Not about something like this,” Mark says. 

 

Ethan raises his head, eyes pink and skin blotchy, and meets Mark’s eyes. His hand drops, sobs abated for now, but his voice trembles when he speaks. “Do you really like me?” 

 

“Yes,” Mark breathes. He tries to infuse that single word with truth, with everything he’s kept inside for so long. 

 

Ethan’s face contorts again, like he’s about to cry, but his lips stretch into a smile. “I’ve loved you for so long,” he says quietly, each word falling into the well of Mark’s heart like a stone. “Even when it was just the idea of you. But I never thought -” Ethan’s voice catches, but there’s light in his eyes, in his smile. “Thank you, Mark.” 

 

“God, you’re so fucking cute,” Mark says. He steps forward and leans his forehead against Ethan’s. There’s time for more things later, dates and kisses and secrets, but for now, with the warmth of Ethan’s skin on his own and Ethan’s laugh echoing in Mark’s ears, for now, this is enough. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Well, I hope that was at least a little worth the wait. Have another request? Leave it below! I won't do it quickly, but I'll probably do it.  
> Also, important note, this work will only be public for about a month before I make it available to registered Archive users only. This is mostly due to the controversy surrounding RPF shipping. This will apply to any YouTuber fanfiction I write that is romance/ship based.  
> Thanks for understanding and I'll see you next time!


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